


(Trouble in) Paradise

by gallifreyanlibertea



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern Royalty, Omegaverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 11:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13317180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyanlibertea/pseuds/gallifreyanlibertea
Summary: Arthur decides he has had enough of his husband's drinking. It's up to Alfred to regain his mate's favor.





	(Trouble in) Paradise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlemaple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemaple/gifts).



> This is a gift for Ju because they're nice to me!
> 
> WARNING: If you are triggered by alcoholism or do not want to read about it being mentioned, please do not read ahead!!

Arthur could smell the alcohol on his husband’s breath, the heavy arms wrapping around him, lips pressing clumsily against Arthur’s cheek. “Ar… Artie, it’s so good to… see you, baby.”

The slurring. The intoxicated smile. Arthur had shoved him away, “Alfred, I told you not to get drunk.”

“M’ just tipsy… a ‘lil, babe.”

The alpha had stumbled to catch his composure and Arthur knew it wasn’t just  _tipsy a ‘lil_. It never was, in all the times Arthur had told him time and time again that he would have to give up those habits if he was to be a proper king, if he was to be a proper husband to Arthur, who’d fled a house of English nobles who hid alcoholism with gloves drawn over their twitching fingers.

Arthur regarded the knights tucked under Alfred’s arms, “I don’t want him in my chambers. Please, just take him away.”

And they were gone with a- “Yes, Your Majesty”- off to dispose of Arthur’s husband in whatever other room had an empty bed to dump him in, because Arthur didn’t want him tonight. There would be no doubt of it, that Alfred would awake next morning in a cold bed, reaching an arm out for his omega to find his bed empty, and he would storm into Arthur’s room with fiery eyes, demanding a reason for being _abandoned,_  as he’d put it so dramatically.

This time, Arthur would not answer.

“Arthur,” Alfred said, voice rising, growing impatient. “Arthur!”

Arthur watched his reflection in the large mirror before him as a woman lowered his crown onto his head, sweeping a coat across his shoulders and smoothing down the fabric.

“Thank you, Jane.” He said as she left with a bow. He gave himself one last regard before turning and walking past his husband, toward an uncomfortable Yao. “Have people arrived yet, Yao?”

His advisor ducked his head, likely avoiding eye-contact with the seething king pacing behind Arthur’s back. “Yes, sir, the people are ready for your entrance.”

“Good.” Arthur said with a slight smile Yao mirrored onto his own lips, “I shall surely give them one.”

Of course, he was expected to.

The Monarchy of Spades was a symbol of prosperity and happiness- what Arthur wore, how he walked, how he waved, how he smiled, it was all crucial. It was all scrutinized, magnified in the papers, there was no room to make a false step.

There was also no room for trouble in what was expected to be paradise, a petty fight between one of the most famous couples in the world, so Arthur let his arm loop around Alfred’s as he would always do before stepping out into the limelight.

He pretended not to hear his husband whisper beneath his breath-  _“I’m sorry”_ \- because the applause was far louder.

Frankly, Arthur had forgotten what this banquet was meant to be about.

Peacetime meant that royalty had to turn to ensuring their citizens that the monarchy was in top condition, like a well-oiled machine- displaying its assets, flaunting its relationships with the other kingdoms- Arthur supposed that was why Yao had jumped on the opportunity to invite the kings of the other kingdoms to a tasteful, wintery celebration.

Arthur had been decked head to toe, like the dolls he would sneak into his sister’s room to play with when he was younger- with porcelain skin, painted pink lips and a beautiful, wintery suit. He was to be the envy of the ball. 

Alfred usually liked watching the handmaidens dress his husband up. “God, Arthur, you’re so  _beautiful.”_

He’d say it when he wasn’t hungover.

Those kind, warm eyes would look at Arthur like they always would. When Arthur would tell him to  _stop eating like a pig, people are watching!,_  when Arthur would glance up after peppering his cat with kisses, when- as Yao and several other blushing handmaidens had told him- when Arthur did _anything,_  really, Alfred would look at him with so much love in those eyes.  

Apparently. 

It was becoming impossible for Arthur to believe Alfred really loved him when Alfred kept…

Alfred was young, and Arthur knew it, but he was always _being so stupid,_ and it’s not like Arthur had banned drinks entirely. He’d just requested, he’d just  _begged_  that Alfred not slip into anything serious. For Alfred’s health, for his reputation.

Arthur shifted his hand into his lap as Alfred reached for it over the table.

“Arthur.” It was a whisper but Arthur allowed it. He turned his head, just slightly. “Please, can we just talk?”

They were close enough together to get away with whispers. They were also close enough to the others, the other royals and nobles seated on the long dining table, to be scared into silence lest their argument climbed into a crescendo.

“I have nothing to say to you, Alfred,” Arthur replied. He sipped his wine, a drink he only drank at parties in small quantities, mind you. He was no hypocrite.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Alfred said, “I-”

“Then why did you?”

It was a bit too loud. Arthur bit back his words, flashing a polite smile at the photographer that had perked up at the noise.

“I’m not talking anymore, Alfred. We shall discuss this later.”

He, of course, hadn’t discussed it later. Upon returning to their bedroom that night, he’d slipped into his nightclothes and taken to ‘sleeping’ silently in their bed, and Alfred had taken his time to do the same.

Arthur shut his eyes as he felt the bed dip at Alfred’s weight. “Arthur- I know you’re awake.”

With Arthur’s scent-inhibitor no longer effective, he supposed Alfred could sense the citrus-y scent of his annoyance, of his anger.

A warm hand tapped his shoulder and Arthur let himself be turned to face his husband. Blue eyes blinked at Arthur, and Alfred looked younger without his glasses. He looked more like the alpha Arthur wanted to shout at- so young and  _reckless._

“Please, talk to me.”

Arthur pursed his lips.

“One of the knights had just had a baby, I bought them all a round of drinks, it’s not going to be an everyday thing!”

“Exactly how many rounds did you buy  _yourself,_  though, Alfred?”

Alfred parted his lips for words. He then sighed back into silence.

“When we have our own baby, am I going to have your support or are you going to be at the pub  _celebrating?”_

“Don’t you dare say that, you know I’ll always be here for you!” Alfred replied and he was getting angry now, it seemed, by the raw cinnamon of his scent putting a wrinkle in Arthur’s nose.

Arthur turned the other way, pulling the blanket over his shoulder. “You know I don’t like it when you drink, it’s as simple as that.”

Alfred sighed yet again and Arthur wanted to scream because  _Alfred knew._  He knew Arthur’s father drank until he’d forgotten his love for Arthur’s mother, he knew Arthur’s parents couldn’t stand to be in the same room as each other anymore _, god,_  if Alfred knew Arthur loved him, why wouldn’t he just understand?

History repeated itself, and Arthur had prayed, he’d begged, he’d cried out to every god in the heavens above that it wouldn’t do the same for him and his beloved mate, so yes. Arthur had every right to be angry that Alfred couldn’t  _bloody do his part._

Arthur swatted at the arm that wrapped around his waist. He allowed it the second time Alfred tried. “Arthur, we are not your parents.”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” Arthur mumbled in response.

“I know I’m an idiot, and I down a few drinks once in a while, but I’m never going to leave you.” Alfred wasn’t one for sappy confessions or anything of that sort, as made evident by the shakiness in his voice, so Arthur allowed himself to be turned again, head guided into resting against Alfred’s chest. “You mean so much to me. You know that, don’t you?”

Arthur clenched his jaw. “I don’t want you drinking. Please.”

“If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll quit.” Was Alfred’s reassuring response, and he was still an idiot, but Arthur let himself be lulled into forgiveness by the beat of his heart and the soothing sound of his hushed voice. “But if I slip up, you’ve gotta be patient, okay?” He laughed, and Arthur met his gaze with a watered-down glare. “Well, when are you ever patient?”

“Don’t make me hate you again.”

Arthur buried his threat back into Alfred’s chest, sang to sleep by the melody of Alfred’s quiet breathing, his warm hand rubbing circles into Arthur’s tense shoulder blades as he pressed feathery kisses into Arthur’s hair.

Alfred smelled like vanilla. 

“You mean so much to me.”


End file.
